A More Severe Lesson in Equality
by HeatherTN
Summary: What happens when Sharron Macready's colleagues patronise her once too often!


**Unfinished Business Series Story Three – A More Severe Lesson in Equality **

How Sharron Macready reacted when her two male colleagues patronised her once too often!

The Champions are owned by their creators and ITC. No Copyright infringement is intended. Will send 'em back after supper.

Warning – content includes description pertaining to female hormonal cycles!

NB- ACK! I accidently deleted this by accident while uploading another tale. So if you're wondering where the original went. Blame Me!

* * *

That was it! She had HAD IT!

*Whooommppphhhhhh!* *Smack!*

Craig Stirling suddenly found himself flying through the air in a high arc out of the door, followed closely by an even more startled Richard Barrett. Both men finally landed thirty feet later in an ungainly heap on the front lawn of Mr Big's mansion, with a size 6 Mary Quant two tone sling back, one and a half inch heel shoe print on each of their respective backsides.

Eventually Richard untangled himself up from Craig (*it's NOT that kind of fanfic!) who had landed first hard enough in to the sod to leave a Stirling shaped five inch deep inprint on the lawn. Craig grunted in pain at Richard's knees momentarily digging in to his back, then in turn managed to peel himself out of the turf, spitting grass and John Innes extra-gro lawn compost out of his mouth whist he stood, staring down at his now mud and grass stained Botany 500 suit. Both were staggering a bit as much from the shock as anything else.

Finally mustering as much as they could of what tiny shreds of dignity they had left, Craig and Richard turned around to face their assailant, who was stood in the doorway holding the real bad guys up dangling from their collars, having lifted them a clear foot off the gravel pathway. They first stared, then glared and then stared again, as a pair of blue-green eyes burned pure anger back at them. Sharron Macready was angry, hopping mad and generally in a very un-lady like pissed off mood. She glared back at her two stunned colleagues before handing the bad guys over to the police who had arrived a minute or so later.

Richard and Craig eventually found their feet and walked slowly towards Sharron, who then pointed towards their rented Vauxhall saloon car. Although not one word was uttered vocally, any open telepath within a hundred miles would have gained a headache from Sharron mentally yelling *You Two! Car..NOW!* through a well established bond of the type one can get if unfortunate enough to crash in the Himalayas, while on the run from very annoyed Chinese guards from a research centre where one (or in this case three) had nicked larvae samples from. But then be fortunate enough to be rescued by an ancient Etonian sounding chap in a yellow and white robe – the stuff of which musical films would be made of a decade or so later – and be healed up with a few extras thrown in at no extra charge on one's travel insurance.

Richard cautiously opened a rear door of the Vauxhall for Sharron, not daring to take his eyes off her for one second. Then thought better of offering her entry first, simply climbing in obediently at her glaring non-vocal insistence. An ego-bruised Craig was adjusting his tie and had already climbed silently in to the driver's seat, only to find Sharron stood by that door, indicating in no uncertain terms that he should heave his American ass out of the seat and get in the back with Richard (I'm telling you, it's NOT that kind of fanfic!).

When both men were in place and the doors closed. Sharron started up the car, did a highly impressive wheel spin which did nothing for the paint work on the chassis because they were still on gravel after slamming the vehicle in to first, then finally after taking the handbrake off, grinding in to second and then fourth gear as she drove the car off down the driveway like a demon.

Once back at their hotel, Sharron was now standing by the entrance, her arm extended and pointing to the revolving door. Again, not one word was spoken, but any open telepath within a hundred miles would have their headache worsened by her telepathic *Now get up stairs! Both of you! I'll be there in a few minutes and you had BETTER be prepared to LISTEN!* in tones angry enough to strip paint off doors. She had to pop to a chemists first because, as well as having to put up with her colleagues patronising her for the umpteenth time that day, her period had finally started.

* * *

Richard poured both himself and Craig a very large scotch each.

*Sharron's obviously not just in one of her occasional 'moods' again because of, well, things us chaps don't like to speak of,* Richard had thought, *something must have upset her?*

*Hmm, yeah, ok Richard. I get it. She's having her 'lady time' but what did you do to upset her so much!* Craig thought back angrily.

"Me! What do you mean, Me!" Richard yelled, vocally this time, "I was the perfect gentleman!"

"Well, I sure as hell didn't do anything!" Craig roared back, his index finger prodding Barrett in the chest, "We had the case all wrapped up and the bad guys on ice. All I asked her to do was..."

At that point, the door burst open and a seething Sharron stood there, glaring at them. The men cowered back on to the bed (I'm telling you again! It's not that...oh never mind!). Her hair was mussed, she was breathing hard and looked as if smoke was about to blow out of her ears.

"...stand there, Sharron! Leave it to us, Sharron! We'll take it from here, Sharron! You're out voted Macready! Keep your pretty head down sweetheart...!" She growled at the men, moving in to the room with the kind of menace normally belonging to large types in wrestling rings intent on breaking the neck of their opponents.

"Do you both not think, by now, that I can occasionally handle things by myself!"

She had started pacing, and the men were getting a little dizzy from her darting about the room.

"Look, I know that you both care. Craig, I accept that you are the team lead when we're working together, and Richard, I appreciate your manners and upper class upbringing in regards to women, but really! You two take the biscuit! I am *supposed* to be your COLLEAGUE! I am *supposed* to BE a part of a TEAM!"

Sharron was raging now, and Richard and Craig were almost clinging on to each other in fear, because neither of them had ever in their lives been subjected to the full fury of an intelligent female who felt patronised, let alone one who was also very powerfully telepathic with full blown PMS and now menstrual cramps.

It was, simply put, terrifying.

Craig wondered when Nemesis would be looking for a new interrogator, since Lindquist had been hauled off in a straight jacket recently after finally falling apart while investigating one too many of Craig's numerous expenses claims. Craig was now convinced Sharron's name should be put forward. She could be, for at least a week or so each month, dangerous. Very, very dangerous.

"I am a Doctor for starters! I was learning to do things in my late teens to people that would have you both puking in to your respective tea and coffee! I have more or less the same powers as you, have learned from you, add to that I grew up around three older brothers, can throw a punch and have been trained as well as you both in self defence! I think now after three years working with you two, you could at least credit me with *some* equality in the division of duties!"

Sharron was not raging any more, just snarling alarmingly.

"...or do you really want me to just sit in a corner manicuring my nails and tell you in which direction the baddies have escaped, while posing in my best Chanel dress!" She spat, leaning over Richard and Craig, who now really were holding each other in fright at this woman who was doing a telepathic impression of Godzilla in their heads. Except this was much worse because she was not in Tokyo and was infinitely more able to do them both a great deal of angonising harm.

The two men didn't say a word, both just shaking their heads mutely, wide eyed at the blonde she-monster that was snorting over and howling at them.

"Bloody good! Right, when back in Geneva, dinner at 'La Rasquale' and you are *both* buying! Goddit!"

At that, Sharron left them with one last hard glare, growled again and exited, slamming the door hard enough to make the walls shake.

Still clinging on to each other for dear life and suddenly needing changes in underwear, the men nodded at the door not saying a word. They had just been given an even more severe lesson in Equality.

Fin.


End file.
